Robert Vickers - Fit to be tied

She winced with pain as he grabbed one wrist and pulled her across the bed. A quick loop and she was tied to one of the bedposts. Her other wrist quickly followed on the opposite bedpost. When he finished with her, she was bound spread-eagle on the bed.

And she hadn't once fought him off. He didn't seem to expect it. She hadn't given him any struggle.

"Now, pain isn't the only way a woman can be tortured, although it is the most common," he continued. Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of the material in her blouse. He ripped the blouse off with three harsh yanks. A pair of scissors took care of the jeans she was wearing.

Bare ass naked, she was tied down to the fur bedspread. Every time she twitched her ass, it tickled. In spite of the man's words, she had to laugh.

"So, you're beginning to understand the method of torture, eh?" He ran his hand over her naked tits. The skin rippled, then became covered with gooseflesh. His stroking over her tits was stimulating and, at the same time, frustrating.

He was promising something he might not deliver.

"Yes, this is part of it. Enjoy the feel of my hands on your skin. I'm enjoying it and you will be begging me soon to stop. I promise you that."

She moaned in pleasure. Let him "torture" her this way all he wanted. She could take it. He was fondling her boobs now. She sighed as he gripped the huge base and slowly worked his way to the nipple cresting the top. Once there, he lightly brushed across the nipple with his fingernail. The hardness contrasted beautifully with the softness of his touch.

Then she shrieked in sudden surprise. His hand had been replaced with a piece of velvet. The fabric pressing into her tits had… what?

Tickled? That wasn't the way it felt. Perhaps she was searching for another word. It wasn't soothing, not like his hands had been. It was more as if the velvet had hurt!

She couldn't believe it but the sensation was the same as if he'd lightly pricked her with a needle. All the fondling and playing with her tits had been for the sole purpose of getting her tits as sensitive as possible. Then he'd brushed the velvet across her nipple.

It was remarkable. And she didn't quite believe it.

"Yes," he said. "It must have given you some small amount of pain. After all, what is pain but the sudden firing of hidden nerves? I fooled your lovely tits into thinking I would do one thing, then did another."

She screamed this time. He'd shoved an ice cube against her crotch. She had been getting progressively wetter as her cunt leaked out its juices, and this sudden cold was totally unexpected.

"See? It is the surprise which gives real flavor to torture. I shall show you all the myriad ways of stimulating a body before I am through."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

He laughed heartily. "It's fun," was his answer.

She shuddered again thinking about the ways he could really torture her. The girl decided she didn't like the prospects one bit. But there was nothing she could do. He had her tied too securely to the bed posts to really put up much of a fight.

She moaned deep in her throat when he began tormenting her with a feather. The soft, downy tendrils worked across her agitated sex lips until she was almost mad with helplessness.

"Stop it! I can't take that much longer!"

And she couldn't. Never had she thought of a feather as a weapon of torture. In this man's hands, it was. He carefully traced around her pussy. Starting at her bush, he went down between her belly and leg until he reached her sex lips. The feather gently moved across her aroused skin until he could tickle and tease her clit.

The tiny little spire was asking for all the attention it could get. And, getting it, the girl couldn't handle it.

"STOP! My body feels like it's coming apart. The feather is hurting me!"

"No," he said, "it's not hurting you. Not exactly. It's giving you totally contradictory inputs."

She shrieked again as he applied the ice cube. The feathery touch followed by the cold wetness was too much for her. She tugged hard at her bonds in a vain attempt to escape.

"I think you're about ready."

He jumped up on the bed and pulled out his cock. It was already erect. Kneeling down between her wide-spread legs, he gave a spasmodic jerk and rammed his prick all the way up her cunt.

She screamed again. Not knowing whether to expect anything new and horrible from the way he fucked into her, she was tensed up. That made his entry up her cunt all the more difficult. Pushing through the impossibly tight cunt stretched and pulled her in different directions.

"Excellent," he gasped. "So tight! I knew I was right!"

He began using the feather on her tits while he was still buried balls deep up her twat.

She loved the man's cock inside her. That was something she was used to. But the feel of his cock pushing hard and firm against her pussy walls was made all the more apparent by the way he used the feather.

A gentle motion dragged it over her aroused nipples. If he'd bit her, the effect couldn't have been greater. A stab of pain went into her chest. He continued plying the feather all over her succulent mounds of titflesh. He missed not one single inch of those snowy white mountains of boob.

When he began slowly fucking her, she tossed her head around on the bed. Everything was all wrong and it should have been perfect. The fur bedspread under her naked body soothed and caressed and tickled.

It added to the torment being given her by the feather. Her body was being smothered in tenderness.

And the friction of his cock against her cunt walls was beginning to warm her flesh. She should have loved every second of the deliberate fucking. He was concentrating on giving her one hell of a good screw.

The girl's body was responding all over. The fur under her body turned into tiny needles of fleece jabbing into her ass and back and shoulders. The twin globes of her tits were filled with excited blood pounding hard in and out. The feather made them feel like bombs waiting to explode.

The feeling he generated was one of expectancy. She was uptight and worrying about when the bomb buried in her guts would go off. She couldn't help it. Relaxing seemed impossible. Everything he did insured that she would get even more aroused.

The cock stroked back and forth with more power now. He was using deeper thrusts to spear her cunt. Once inside her twat, he twitched his hips around in a circle. This made her feel as if her cunt was a bowl and his cock was a stirring rod.

Still, this was better than letting him use the feather on her.

"Fuck me good!" she demanded. The girl's mind was working too slowly now. But from deep inside, she knew if she could get him off fast, he'd stop all this torture.

"Soon, my dear, soon. Just relax and enjoy the feel of my cock," he told her.

She tried. The in and out motion warmed her, fanned the fires of her lust until she was burning brightly inside. She felt the normal sexual tension that preceded orgasm building up in her belly. Ignoring the feather wasn't easy, but she did it.

The tickly feeling was treacherous. It crept into her brain past the pleasure she was receiving from his fucking. Her tits throbbed. They were like bombs with lighted fuses. They would explode at any instant – and she couldn't control that instant.

He abandoned the feather when his breathing became harsher. She knew he was feeling the effects of her tight, juicy quim. She began massaging the length of his prick as it surged into her.

As their crotches ground together, she clamped down with her stomach muscles. This made her feel filled to overflowing with cock. And it made him feel good, too. This was the way fucking was supposed to be. Her twat was made for a cock. And none of this feather stuff to distract her.